


The Storm Inside

by AJtheBlueJay



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon), Disney Duck Universe
Genre: Domestic, Family, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Mystery, No Plot/Plotless, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 23:59:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14658962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJtheBlueJay/pseuds/AJtheBlueJay
Summary: An alarming sound cuts through the rain and wind, and puts Drake Mallard on alert. He won't be going back to sleep tonight.





	The Storm Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points if you get the song reference in the flashback.

The thunder exploded outside, and Drake Mallard woke with a start. He looked around his bedroom as it was momentarily lit by the flash of lightning that poured in, casting shadows on the walls. As the thunder settled, his heart rate, which was elevated thanks to the thunder startling him into consciousness, started to lower as his senses returned to normal.

This night was an especially stormy one, to say the least. The wind howled outside his window and shook all manner of objects outside that were not tied down. The rain rapped at his window like little rocks being fired from an Uzi, and that's not to mention the hail that actually hit his window like SMG bullets. The tired duck gave a yawn that was quickly drowned out by another thunderclap and scratched the messy feathers on top of his head. He had a feeling that this was going to happen tonight.

Drake's patrol earlier that night as the masked vigilante, Darkwing Duck, had gone well enough. The wind carried an air of unease through the streets of St. Canard, and the flashes of thundering cumulonimbus could be seen in the distance, a sign of things to come. But that certainly didn't stop Darkwing's electrified archnemesis, Megavolt, from trying to take over the St. Canard power plant...again, and use it for his own nefarious purposes. The ensuing battle had gone textbook enough, with its fair share of witty one-liners, electricity bolts fired, and triple-flip web kicks to the face. Like many times before, the daring duck of mystery deftly disposed of this defiant denizen of darkness, and a pouting Megavolt would soon be locked up like a rat in a cage (despite all his rage) in the St. Canard Penitentiary for the Criminally Conniving.

"Well, LP," Darkwing said to his sidekick, Launchpad McQuack, "I think that victory deserves an early retirement. Let's head home before it starts raining."

"Right behind ya, DW," Launchpad replied. As the police van pulled away from the scene, Launchpad jogged to the Ratcatcher's sidecar and climbed in, just as Darkwing vaulted onto the seat of his trusty motorbike. He revved the engine and sped away toward his secret hideout in the Audubon Bay Bridge. As the bike screamed down the street, Darkwing noticed the clouds growing closer and more menacing. Brief flashes of light could be seen at their bases and thunder rumbled its warning. The storms would be moving in soon.

And move in they did. They were still going strong nearly 2 hours after the first big gust of wind nearly blew Darkwing and Launchpad off one of the Audubon Bay Bridge's support cables. They had shut Darkwing Tower down in a bit of a hurry, with Darkwing reasoning that he wanted to be home and asleep before the harsh weather kicked in. He knew that if he wasn't, the noise from the storms wouldn't let him for the whole night.

So much for that plan.

Drake rubbed at his eyes and eased himself to a sitting position to ponder his current situation. The fury taking place outside would be hard to sleep through, and unfortunately, the thunder that woke him left him fully alert, so returning to dreamland would be a challenge. He would need as much sleep as he could for tomorrow, though. You never knew what the day would bring, especially with the life he led. Perhaps a little TV and peppermint tea would soothe him enough to sleep at least a couple more hours before the dawn. Plus, the kitchen drawers would have some earplugs to help keep the fury of nature from his ears.

Another thunderclap resounded through the storm, shaking the house. Drake grimaced, the loud sound rattling his head. He was quickly distracted from this, however, as the sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the house. Drake's eyes went wide. What was that? His investigative ears quickly tuned out the wind and rain and began to listen closely for any other abnormal noise.

...nothing. Nothing except the buckets of rain splashing his window.

This was suspicious, and smelled greatly of an intruder, who was bold to try and burgle a bungalow in bad weather. Could one of the many villains he defeated regularly have gotten a hold of his secret identity? He and his family could be in immediate danger.

Now he really couldn’t go back to sleep.

With his mind racing, and paranoia developing, Drake rolled out of bed and grabbed his robe from a poster at the bed's foot. He was at his door before he finished tying the belt around his waist. Careful not to make any noise, he slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open a crack, peering out into the hall. Nothing unusual came into sight from the end of the upstairs hall to the stairs and foyer down below. But if he was being honest, there was admittedly not very much to see in the darkness of his house, with it being the middle of the night and all.

Drake opened the door fully and tiptoed out into the hall. The only light he could see was coming from downstairs. Drake crept down the stairs and looked out over the railing half way down. The TV was on in the living room. He could see its light and hear its audio faintly from his position on the stairs. An intruder breaking in to watch TV? Drake was starting to have doubts in his mind about his initial worries, but a good detective always looked for conclusive evidence. He had to go down and make sure everything was okay.

He jumped down the rest of the stairs, landing as silently as he could, and readied himself to jump in front of the living room’s large, arching entryway. He imagined himself catching the intruder by surprise, scaring him or her out of his house with a few choice words, and maybe a baseball bat if necessary. No one would be getting the best of Darkwing Duck tonight. His little hype talk complete, Drake counted to three in his mind, launched himself into the middle of the archway and struck a duck fu pose, ready for attack.

Unfortunately, there was no one to see his display of bravado, and Drake was left looking like a drip. The living room was completely empty, with nothing in the room looking out of place or disturbed. The couch was in its usual place in front of the TV, and the chairs he used as a secret transport to his hideout were standing proud on the opposite wall, like they always were. The TV showed a rerun of Pelican's Island, illuminating most of the room with a soft glow. Drake gave a sigh and put his hands on his hips. _I'm probably worrying about nothing_ , he thought.

No sooner had he thought that, he heard the kitchen door bang open from his left. He jerked around and let out a yelp as he laid eyes on two unknown figures, one noticeably tall, and the other hilariously short. Who were these people, what were they doing in his kitchen, and what did they want with him and his family? Another thunderclap, the strongest one yet, exploded around the three. He and the new strangers screamed in terror and a tray of mugs came clattering to the ground, adding to the awful din with their splintering shattering, spilling their substance all over the floor. Drake dropped to his hand and knees and covered his head with his hands, waiting for the noise to subside, and the house to stop shaking.

"Aw, Dad, look what you made Launchpad do!"

Drake recognized that voice. Easing his mental tension from high alert to caution, he removed his hands and rose to his knees to take a closer look at the intruders. His brief terror turned to relief when he spied Launchpad and his adopted daughter, Gosalyn, standing outside the kitchen, dimly lit by the TV. Launchpad was dressed in a lilac onesie and his signature pilot cap and Gosalyn was in an orange nightshirt. She looked rather peeved at the loss of her hot chocolate, while Launchpad let out a nervous chuckle, embarrassed about dropping the drinks.

"Sorry, DW," Launchpad said as Drake rose to his feet to see what exactly had fallen, "all this thunderin’ is leaving me with some bad butterfingers."

Drake clutched his chest and sighed heavily, “I almost jumped out of my feathers thanks to you two! And I thought some heinous housebreaker was hiding here.”

“Nah, it’s just us, Dad,” Gosalyn piped in, seeing her father slowly relax. “By the way, what are you doing up?”

When Drake heard this, it suddenly hit him that his daughter was up and about when she shouldn’t be. His mind switched gears immediately, and his parental goggles came on. “I should be asking you the same question, young lady,” he said, wondering what excuse she would give to being up at this ungodly hour.

"Well, I was on my way to the bathroom when I heard the TV on downstairs. I decided to check it out to make sure there weren’t any intruders trying to steal our stuff."

Drake couldn't help but crack a prideful smile. _I'm rubbing off on her_ , he thought, and what better crimefighter to have as a parental role?

Gosalyn continued, "Launchpad was at the couch and he asked me to keep him company."

"Keep you company?" Drake asked, looking at Launchpad to elaborate as to why he was up as well.

"Well, the thunder woke me up and I couldn't get back to sleep. I figured I'd watch some TV to see if that helped. Gos came down not long after and I thought she might be scared of the storm."

"No I wasn't!" Gosalyn quickly said, not wanting her dad to see her as a little kid, "you told me you were scared of the storm." Launchpad immediately turned red after hearing her words. "In fact, Dad, I saw him hugging an airplane plushie and sucking his thumb!"

Drake saw his sidekick fluster up in front of him and couldn't help but giggle at watching Launchpad stutter and squirm in place as he tried to find the words to explain.

Launchpad was probably going to need some encouragement from his friend after being humiliated like this, and that mess of tea, hot chocolate, and broken ceramic near the kitchen doors was definitely going to be cleaned up, most likely by Gosalyn as restitution for Launchpad, but Drake could deal with that as it came. The threats in his mind were over, lost to the howling wind outside, and he and his family were safe inside, together.


End file.
